


The Dangers of Costume Constructs

by Corkat



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Floor Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Handcuffs, Hate Sex, Humiliation, M/M, New 52, Public Nudity, Semi-Public Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 11:32:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15907434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corkat/pseuds/Corkat
Summary: A typical League argument leads to a release of tension outside the Watchtower War Room. Maybe next time Hal will remember to wear actual clothes under the ring's suit.





	The Dangers of Costume Constructs

Space wasn’t cold. That was a common idea, and Hal could see where it came from, but space was largely just… nothing. There were times where it felt like it, sure, but he was fairly certain those were just a combination of oxygen deprivation, and missing the warm, protective, glow of his ring. A man wears the hard-light equivalent of a full-body heated blanket every day for years, and he starts to get used to it. 

Reliant, even, which posed a problem on days like today. He’d been running late, which was nothing new, and figured that no one had to know he hadn’t done laundry if he just kept his ring on. Wouldn’t be the first League meeting he showed up to technically naked, probably wouldn’t be the last.

The Watchtower, similarly, was nowhere near as cold as one would expect. He wasn’t sure if it was the Kryptonian tech, Amazonian designs, something to thank Vic for, or just good old American engineering (he assumed), but the metal comprising the satellite was warm to the touch, almost like a living thing.

...he was fairly certain that the Watchtower wasn’t alive. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he’d seen, not by a long shot, but it would make the current situation awkward. Y’know, more awkward than it already was. Nobody got fucked on Mogo, after all, especially when all of their teammates were only a room away, but, well, here they were. Hal pressed up against the wall, naked, ringless, and hands trapped behind his back in ridiculous (not to mention uncomfortable) bat themed cuffs, while Batman thrust into him with a ferocity born of four years of tension.

“Batman,” of course, not “Bruce.” God forbid the man unmask, and risk exhibiting anything resembling humanity. No, he was in full costume, pants pulled down just enough to free himself, a mountain of cold kevlar, leather, and cloth against Hal’s back, punctuated by two very insistent spots of heat. Part of Hal was amazed that the lips on the back of his neck drove him almost as crazy as the cock that was slamming into him, but mostly he was just frustrated. His own erection was practically burning with need, trapped between his stomach and the wall, and it didn’t seem like he was going to be getting release any time soon. 

Bruce did something with his hips, causing Hal to cry out as he was lifted briefly off the ground, only to be rewarded by a gloved palm against his mouth, and another thrust that made him see stars. “Quiet, Jordan,” Bruce whispered into the Lantern’s ear, breath hot on his neck, “or I’ll turn you around and make you shut up.” 

It wasn’t quite his “Batman” voice, somewhere in between that and his speaking voice, but it was rawer, less controlled, than Hal had ever heard from him. Bruce’s literal mask might not have been slipping, but his stoic facade definitely was. Hal would be damned if he didn’t get at least one good moan out of the other man, though.

As Bruce pulled back, Hal pushed himself forward what little he could before slamming himself back onto Bruce’s cock, drawing a sharp breath. It wasn’t his smoothest move, especially with no hands to brace himself, but it did the job, catching Bruce by surprise, and causing him to withdraw his hand, shifting it to Hal’s hips instead. Thrilled to have the upper hand for once, he repeated the action with a smirk. “That all you got, Bats? I’ve put up with your crap for four years, least you can do is fuck me like you mean it.” 

That was a definite mistake.

Bruce grunted quietly, that same frustrated noise that had been getting on the Lantern’s nerves for years. The thrusts got harder, but no less precise, slamming Hal back into the wall. One gloved hand covered Hal’s mouth, while the other snuck down to his cock, slowly, horrendously, tormentingly, slowly, trailing a single finger from the tip down to the base. Hal let out a muffled moan of protest, while Bruce carefully wrapped his hand around him. “I told you,” he growled, “to shut up. If you actually listen for once in your damn life, I might let you come.”

Hal nodded, but chimed back in as soon as Bruce let go of his mouth. “You’re really trying to be bossy now?”

Bruce didn’t say a word, and simply removed his hand from Hal’s length, using it instead to brace himself against the wall as he continued to thrust. Hal wasn’t sure if it was coincidence or proving a point that the hand was right by the batarang trapping his ring to the wall, but either way he refused to take the message. “What’s the matter? Am I too much for you to handle?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re no Superman.”

For all of his shittalk, Hal was getting close, even if he was woefully unattended to. “Christ,” he moaned, pushing back onto the detective, “I’ll shut up if you shut up and fuck me, deal?”

There was that grunt again, followed by the hand returning to his cock, finally pumping instead of teasing, and Hal saw white. There was nothing left to be said, and for the next few minutes the silence punctuated only by ragged breaths and the sounds of skin on kevlar. It wasn’t long before Bruce had guided them away from the wall, leaving Hal with his cheek against the floor and his ass in the air, less than dignified, but more than satisfying. Bruce pulled out of the Lantern one last time, and Hal practically melted on the floor, the warmth of his own cum burning against his naked chest. Bruce simply rolled Hal over with his foot, surprisingly gently, briefly pumping his erection before his own orgasm joined the pilot’s. 

The two remained there, Hal on the floor and Bruce standing above him, before Bruce drew his cape around himself, slipping back into Bat-mode. “Ring or no, you need make sure you’re dressed appropriately for League business, Jordan. And you damn sure need to show respect.”

Hal rolled his eyes, still breathing heavily. “Yeah, in case you missed it, you just fucked me on the Watchtower. We’re way past workplace respect, Bruce.”

Bruce let his cape fall, and crossed his arms, revealing that his costume looked entirely seemless again, no sign of skin below the neck. “Do you actually know that you’re a pain in the ass?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s my line,” Hal smirked.

“Puns. Now.” 

“Hey, at least I didn’t say ‘batawang.’”

Bruce shook his head, and pulled the batarang from the wall, catching Hal’s ring and tossing it idly to his other hand. “That’s gonna cost you,” he mused, before unleashing the most horrifying evil grin Hal had ever seen. With a chuckle, he placed the ring into a pocket on his utility belt, and tossing a key onto the floor by Hal’s waist. “Feel free to rejoin the meeting once you’ve made yourself decent. Hopefully you’ve come to see things my way.”

Hal blanched. “You have my ring.”

“Hh.”

“I don’t have clothes.”

“Yes.”

“You’re just gonna leave me here naked, cuffed, and covered in cum?”

“And they say *I’m* the detective. Have fun, Hal.” 

Ignoring Hal’s protests, Bruce stepped over the prone Lantern, and walked towards the door to the war room. As Hal fumbled with the key, and the door opened, he heard an exasperated Superman: “Bruce, you do realize we all have super hearing, right?”

Hal groaned in frustration as the door closed, slowly cutting off Barry’s voice. “Wait, what are you talking a-”

Okay, Hal thought, as he managed to awkwardly wiggle the key into the handcuffs,next time he’s going down.

**Author's Note:**

> man i have not written smut outside of parody thomas the tank engine shit back in 2010 but drunk me decided this needed to be written, apparrently.
> 
> I am so very sorry.


End file.
